Ebbing Motion
by a. loquita
Summary: For Helen, the past is never fully buried and gone, but resonates in every aspect of today and what tomorrow may bring. Spoilers for season 1, flashbacks include canon Helen/John


Title: Ebbing Motion  
By: a. loquita  
Summary: For Helen, the past is never fully buried and gone, but resonates in every aspect of today and what tomorrow may bring.  
Rating: Adult  
Pairing: Flashbacks include canon Helen/John  
Warnings/spoilers: Spoilers for season 1  
A/N: A big thanks to ziparumpazoo for her beta work and support

* * *

The dwindling fire in the fireplace seemed to be stubbornly hanging on, despite the cold gusts darting down the chimney at it. Helen sat in her office with an abandoned cup of tea in front of her, staring off at nothing. Her thoughts were of Ashley and of the choices made over more than a century, finally culminating in what happened today. All of it out of Ashley's control and yet…

A flash of light pulled Helen's attention.

"Still no sign of her," John said, collapsing into a chair.

"Henry's running scans but it will take several hours."

"Then there's not much more that can be done tonight." John turned his head and looked at her, noting the exhaustion and worry scarcely hidden in the lines of her face. "You should get some rest."

"You know that I won't sleep."

"Come." He stood and offered his hand. Helen hesitated, knowing full well that she shouldn't trust herself in his company when she was this tired. But a moment of recapturing something lost long ago seemed to promise relief.

* * *

"_Father?" Helen entered the breakfast room. One of the kitchen staff was setting out a spread of ham, 2-minute eggs, and toast. The pot of tea was already on the table._

"_Miss Helen," the dark-haired servant said, "I believe Cook mentioned to me that your father will be down shortly."_

"_Thank you, Beatrice."_

_The servant bowed slightly and then exited the room._

_Her father, as predicted, entered the room moments later, just as Helen was spreading marmalade on her toast. His head was hidden behind a newspaper._

_Helen was never sure how he'd learned to walk while reading, as he so often did, without his shins meeting the sharp edges of furniture. Though, she supposed, living in the same house with the same furniture arrangement—the way her mother had left it all those years ago—had gone a long way in protecting her father from bruises._

"_Morning," she said cheerfully._

"_Helen," the edge of the paper turned down to reveal his kind face, bright blue eyes, and graying hair. "You're up early, my dear."_

"_First day of the new fall term."_

"_Already? My, the weeks have passed quickly."_

_It was still new, her assisting in the field and in his secret laboratories in the basement. Only in the last year had he let her in on his secret, and even then, arranged her participation around her schoolwork and social activities. The summer break had given her more time than ever before to work with him uninterrupted, and though she was excited to return to her Oxford studies, she was slightly disappointed that it also meant a temporary sidelining of the far more interesting things her father could teach her._

_Father and daughter finished their breakfast together. After that, Helen gathered her things, kissed him on the cheek, and left in a carriage headed toward Oxford._

_It was between her second and third lecture of the day, when she was leafing through a book in the library, that a young man found her. He came up behind her, one hand placed lightly at her waist while his lips found her cheek fleetingly, before he buried his face into the golden curls of her hair and whispered, "Helen."_

_At first, she closed her eyes and gave into the carnival of sensations that only he could create. Then she reigned herself back in. _

"_John," she admonished. "We cannot. Especially not in such a public place."_

_He chuckled and pulled back; enough that she could turn to look at him. It had been months since she'd last seen him—his plan to be away during the break and her intent to spend time with her father and their unorthodox work had kept the couple apart._

_Though, even if they'd been in proximity, their time together would have been brief anyway. Her father believed strongly that Helen should concentrate on her academic work, as there was plenty of time for being courted by a man—an appropriately selected man—once she'd completed her studies and accomplished at least a few of her goals. Goals that he shared and supported and had sacrificed for, therefore, Helen could not and would not let him down. They were still fighting the establishment to allow her audited courses to be counted. Nothing that could be used against Helen, or her reputation, should come to light if she expected to win. _

"_My Helen, how I have missed you."_

_Scrutinizing John, she could not help but notice the tiredness in his eyes and the paleness of his skin. "Did your holiday not agree with you?"_

"_I am fine but for lacking the doting attention of one woman."_

_She smiled. "Well, then. We shall seek to change that, John Druitt." Mischief danced in her eyes._

_Their romance was forbidden. But in truth, it all had begun innocently enough in an empty classroom during Helen's first year, and indeed had remained professional for a long time. The friendship had grown slowly as they shared their interest in the miracle that was the anatomy and physiology of the human body. They poured over books and patient reports together, and one day, interest in their shared studies and hobbies developed into interest in one another._

"_I'll see you later?" he asked. When she nodded, he finally moved off, even if a little reluctantly. Helen was left to find the book she was searching for among the stacks._

_She spent the afternoon in academic pursuits; her thoughts strayed a few times to John. Last spring before he'd left, she went to the theater with him, lying to her father and telling him that she was going with a childhood friend, Elizabeth Shelton, instead._

_Helen pressed a hand to her chest and even now through the layers of her clothes she felt the ring he'd given her that night hanging from a necklace. How much longer would they need to hide? She wasn't sure she had strength left to continue to lie to her father, nor to stay distant from the man she loved._

_Later that evening, Helen's father was sheltered away in his study, no doubt going over his more difficult-to-treat cases from the hospital or from the Sanctuary below his feet. If he wasn't so engrossed, Helen might have considered entering and confess everything, as she'd been tempted hundreds of times in the past._

_Instead, she sat at her writing table in her suite of rooms and began to compose a letter to John, but the words would not come._

_Beatrice entered quietly so as not to disturb the lady of the house. The servant brought in a pot of tea and some biscuits, and retreated just as quietly. But Helen wasn't hungry, even though she'd barely touched her dinner. Even her precious textbooks lay nearby, also untouched. She knew it was all a symptom of guilt and anguish, and of so many things she felt that were outside her ability to control. _

_She closed her eyes and brought herself back to the moment in the library earlier that day, the feel of John's body solidly behind her, his hands touching scarcely, though she knew he wanted more. She did as well, and that was the problem. She was tired of being the one to deny him. She wanted to be the one to give him anything and everything, to see joy on his face. He had given her so much, taught her, granted her every wish even at the expense of his own wishes and desires. He was a patient and kind man and she knew no other would find the places in her heart that he had discovered. _

_As if her thoughts of him were tethers pulling on something physical, he was suddenly there. _

"_John!" she jumped up from her chair at the feel of his hands on her shoulders. "What are you doing here?"_

_Her eyes danced wildly around the room, looking for some explanation. He stood before her, still dressed in his long coat._

_He smiled reassuringly. "I swear to you, your father does not know I am here."_

"_But how?"_

"_Helen," he took her hand. "I had to see you."_

"_If you came in downstairs, even through the back door, the maid will know and she'll tell—"_

"_I did not come in through any door."_

_Her eyes shot to the open window in her room. It was three stories above the ground, but it appeared to be the only explanation._

"_I have learned far more of myself over the last several months than I've ever believed possible," he said. "Things I am both proud of and ashamed of."_

_In the past year, he had spoken of his strange dreams, and how after waking from them, he often found himself standing in the streets somewhere far from home. She had been devoted to working with him last spring to resolve the sleepwalking problems and night terrors, and he seemed to have been improving. The holiday was supposed to help him further by getting away from the stress of Oxford, and instead, breathing the fresh country air. Now she was frightened that he had regressed, perhaps was even worse than he had been before._

"_John, let me help you. I am positive we can solve anything together."_

"_We can." He lifted her hand to his lips. "Because whenever I'm with you, you make me feel…" he kissed her hand again, then tugged a little until she obliged and stepped forward into his embrace. "So much more of a man than at any other time."_

_It was not their first kiss, they'd stolen plenty before, but this was the first one filled with this level of intensity. It took Helen's breath for a moment. She pulled back, long enough to see something in his eyes that told her pulling away in this moment was the exact opposite of what they both needed. So, she gave in, surrendered to him, followed along and put her trust in him._

_His hands found their way beneath her clothes until they touched skin and he sighed at the discovery of it. He moved her to the bed, removing his own layers. Then he joined her, bare, open, and honest in who he was._

_Helen was frightened, but not as much as she believed she might have been in this moment. She knew very little, but had learned enough of the human body from her studies, as well as from walking in on the groundskeeper and one of the maids one afternoon. She knew what was happening, she just never imagined this was how it could feel._

_His hands and lips built something inside her that she never knew existed in the world. Hours later when she woke again, she encouraged him and soon he was inside of her, this time there was no discomfort, no worry. There was nothing else between them but shared desire, love, and comfort. Nothing but the wish to please each other as much as possible._

"_I promise, Helen, I will always love you. I will make you happy."_

_The third time she woke that night was not due to the feel of his hands on her, nor the echo of whispered promises under the sheets. It was because of coldness._

"_John." she sat up, feeling the length of his body beside her, but not the heat it should have been radiating._

_She felt for a pulse and found it, though it was weak. She had no idea what to do, but all of the options that leapt to mind involved— in one way or another— her father finding out. Thus, there was no sense in considering another first step. She would face whatever came next, if only so John might live._

_She pulled on her nightclothes and flew down the hall to her father's private rooms. She knocked more than once before she roused him._

"_Helen, what the devil is wrong?"_

_She was already taking his hand and leading him toward her room. "Please, Father, I need you. Do not to judge me in this moment, but think only of the patient."_

"_What are you talking about?"_

_He was silent upon finding a man in his daughter's bed. No more questions were asked, and Helen wasn't sure if that was due to his focus on the task at hand, or the sudden desire not to know the answers to his queries._

_Dr. Magnus moved his unexpected patient to the rooms below ground. He had as much as any modern hospital, and none of the questioning looks that they might throw at his daughter, should they arrive in the middle of the night with this patient._

_Helen assisted her father in stabilizing John. He was still very weak, but steady now, and his temperature had come up due to their efforts with warming lamps. After more than an hour, her father sank into a nearby chair and rang the bell. The staff would know it meant he needed a drink of brandy._

_He did not look upon his daughter as she sat down on the floor and placed her head on his knee. She had not done that since she was a child. _

"_What have I done, Helen, that hasn't been enough for you?"_

_Her tears came then, perhaps as a delayed reaction to all that had happened in one short night, or as a need to finally release all her secrets._

"_Nothing. You've given me everything." Helen wiped her eyes. "Nonetheless, I can't help but to love him. I have for a long time, and I am sorry that I've kept it from you."_

_She heard her father sigh deeply. He patted her hair, an old signal that he wanted her to lift her head so he could look at her. She complied; it was the least she could do. _

"_I think… " Helen took a breath. "It could all be my fault."_

"_What do you mean?"_

_Helen told her father the rest, confessing everything that 'The Five' had done over the last year, starting with forming their secret society, to the experiments, and finally to the injection that they'd all taken._

_When she finished, her father said only, "I need the source blood."_

_At dawn, Nigel, Nikola, and James arrived at the Magnus' residence and Dr. Magnus led them through the door to his Sanctuary. Looking at his daughter's friends he felt mixed emotions, but it was not the time or place to explore them, a man's life was at risk._

"_Lovely accommodations," Nikola said. "Almost as if—"_

"_The blood, Nikola," Helen cut him off._

"_My, my, you become disagreeable when John's ill."_

_James put a hand on Helen's arm. "Nikola, just hand over what's left to Dr. Magnus."_

_From a pocket inside his coat, Nikola pulled out a flask wrapped in a towel. He handed it over to the Doctor, who turned immediately to his instruments. _

"_This may take a while. You can all wait over there." Dr. Magnus flicked his hand to indicate the direction of a small sitting room._

_As the hours passed, Nigel paced and likely didn't even notice when a hand or leg would disappear for a moment. Nikola flipped through a few of Dr. Magnus' books, not really looking at the contents. Helen sat next to James, but her thoughts where in the laboratory with her father attempting to save John. _

_James was always telling her that she was the type to jump off a cliff and figure out how to grow wings after. This experiment she'd designed was no different, she supposed. But perhaps for the first time in her life, Helen had regrets about her pursuit of science, and concern that the cost might be too much to bear. She shouldn't have involved any of her friends. It was her idea and she should have kept it to herself._

"_It's not your fault, my dear." James seemed to be reading her thoughts. "John will pull through this."_

"_Only to have my father murder him." _

_James smiled for the first time since he'd arrived and heard the news of his best friend's condition. "Am I to assume that means your courtship is no longer a secret?"_

"_Secrets." Helen closed her eyes for a moment, as if too ashamed to see. "Too many secrets."_

"_I'm sure your father will come around and approve. John's a good man."_

_At daybreak, Helen went above to direct the household in a few matters, including informing Cook that extra visitors might be around the table for the next several meals._

_She was sitting in the music room, sipping tea, when her father found her. Helen stood, and the concern over the possibility of bad news must have been clear, because her father immediately relieved those worries._

"_He is still stable, though…" He sat down, so Helen did as well. "It's unlike anything I've seen, Helen. And to be perfectly frank, I'm more concerned that you've stated you injected the same into yourself. Could you be next on my operating table? Helen, how could you be so…" He shook his head._

_His voicing something that had been nagging at her as well only served to ratchet up the emotions inside her. "I have felt no ill effects and seen no changes in myself. Everyone else saw or felt something within days."_

"_Yes, well, we'll get to them in time." He reached in his pocket for his handkerchief and dabbed at his brow. "He—Mr. Druitt—is my immediate concern. I believe he requires a great burst of energy to his temporal lobe. It's risky and could do more harm, but it's his only chance at resetting the bizarre waves I am picking up inside his brain."_

_Helen lifted her eyebrow. "I know just the person who can help."_

_

* * *

_

In the hallway, Helen paused outside Ashley's door. How many times had she worried that one day Ashley wouldn't make it home to the safety of her bed? John still held her hand, allowing the moment of pause, before tugging gently to keep her moving in the right direction.

Perhaps because the past was so proximate tonight, or perhaps for no reason at all, John suddenly said, "He did it wrong on purpose you know."

"Who?"

"Nikola."

They arrived at the door to her bedroom.

John faced Helen and said, "The first time he gave me the jolt in the wrong place in my brain. I didn't realize until we were in that labyrinth that he did it to drive us apart."

Helen shook her head. "He doesn't have feelings for me. He just says those things to…" She felt like shrugging but didn't have the energy. "He's Nikola. It's how he is."

"He did it wrong, Helen."

"He didn't know. None of us knew what we were doing and my father tried his best. We were losing you. We did everything we could."

John took her other hand as well, holding them both tightly as he said, "Then why, when he tracked me down this year, did he know exactly the right way to fix me?"

"What you're accusing him of—you can't possibly know that for sure." Helen knew she sounded defensive, but she was unsure that was how she truly felt.

* * *

_There was silence in the house. It felt like those first days after Helen's mother died, and Helen supposed it was appropriate. After all, there were no assurances that the small life her father had removed from her body and put into a storage vessel would survive. Despite his claims that he knew a race of people in the Baudó Mountains that did it all the time and had taught him the technique._

"_Miss Helen?"_

"_Yes, Beatrice."_

_The servant took that as permission to enter. She set out a bowl of stew, bread, and a glass of red wine. Then she left the mistress of the household alone to eat in her room._

_Helen had taken to staying here and not moving about the house. She was lonely. Her father had gone on his trip to take the vial of source blood to a hidden location, in case it was ever needed to save one of their lives. But he also wanted to keep any of 'The Five' from using it for their own personal gains, whether their intentions were altruistic or not._

_She'd been cut off from John; her father forbade them to see one another. And John, apparently, had decided to abide by her father's wishes because he hadn't attempted to get a message to her, not even clandestinely._

_She'd been confined to the house for a month as punishment for her actions, only permitted out to attend her classes at Oxford. The college had finally allowed her full admittance and with her audited coursework now counted as fill credits, she would graduate in a few months time. But even that long-sought victory did little to prevent Helen from feeling empty._

_In the quiet of her room, she admitted to herself that she wanted the child. Thankfully her father hadn't destroyed it outright, but had at least allowed her the possibility of carrying it to term one day. The logic in her father's words and actions somehow couldn't compete with the simple fact: she wanted her child._

_With a sigh, Helen lifted the spoon to her lips, eating the stew without tasting it. On the table, beside her meal, sat the letter that arrived yesterday from James. He'd been attempting to help solve the Ripper case and was growing increasingly frustrated with being out-witted. Another slaying two nights before had James and the police confused, and once again, it seemed they'd missed the assailant by mere minutes._

_With a flash of light, John materialized in front of her and Helen dropped her spoon. _

"_My dear, Helen," he grinned at her. But it was not his usual smile, teasing and happy. This one frightened her._

"_What are you doing here? How?"_

_Another flash of light and he disappeared, only to reappear behind her, holding her around the waist. "My gift, thanks to your father and Nikola, is growing."_

"_He was trying to help you, John."_

"_Help me?" He laughed. "How is keeping me from the love of my life helping? Or keeping me from my child?" _

_Helen spun around. "How do you know about that?"_

"_I have my ways."_

_Helen backed away from him. Even if his movements in and out of thin air hadn't already frightened her, the tone of his voice and the way he was looking at he did. She backed up until her calves bumped up against the bed. He was cornering her._

"_How far along?" John's hand reached out to her belly._

"_I… I'm not. Not anymore."_

"_What?" The rage in his voice shook her._

"_My father took care of… it." _

"_I'll kill him," he shouted._

"_No, John, wait—" But he disappeared again, the air cracking with energy where he'd stood only seconds before._

_Helen's room was silent once again. And in that quiet, a realization began to build inside her, like a house being constructed from mismatched beams and bricks. Her hand flew to her mouth as she gasped at the completed image in her mind. Suddenly, so many things made sense, even if that sense came at a terrible cost._

_Helen dressed quickly and escaped the servants, out the back door, and into the night. She needed to see James as soon as possible._

_Hours later, the air in the room was heated, both with humidity and with flares of disagreement._

"_This is a ridiculous plan!" Nikola said again. James rolled his eyes and Nigel looked toward Helen. It seemed that he didn't want to agree with Nikola, but that the point Nikola made was a pretty fair assessment. "If it doesn't work, he'll kill us all."_

"_It will work," Helen insisted. "I've looked over all my father's notes on John and it makes sense that a low EM field would keep him from… whatever you call what he is doing."_

_"Teleporting," James supplied._

"_Right."_

"_But," James began, apparently feeling the need to remind, once again, who or what it was that they were dealing with. "He's a murderer, and should be turned over to the police."_

"_You really believe the police can hold him?" Helen asked, while her tone made it clear that it was rhetorical, she already knew the answer to the question._

"_Well," James turned to the men, "if we're going to do this, I know the perfect place."_

_Soon after, Helen stood on a street corner with a pistol pointed at John. They'd tracked him all night and now that she was actually faced with it, she was having doubts. Perhaps he wasn't the one. Maybe they'd all been mistaken._

_Until he slit the throat of an innocent woman before Helen's eyes, not a hint of remorse on his part. He was gone in a flash and Helen shouted out, "Now!"_

_Below ground, in the old tunnels, Nigel flipped a switch on James' device and John reappeared before them, confusion flickering across his features._

"_What have you done?" John asked._

"_I'm sorry, old friend," James replied. "It can't go on anymore."_

_John banged against the cage walls. Then he seemed to concentrate and began to disappear, only to have the field surrounding him spit him back inside the cage._

"_No!" he shouted. "You cannot keep me in this!"_

"_Dr. Magnus returns in a few days. I will work with him. We might come up with something to help you, John."_

"_And if not," Nikola happily noted, "you get to spend eternity in that comfy cage."_

_

* * *

_

In the hallway of the Sanctuary, Helen replayed the moments in her mind, trying to see hints she might have missed in the past.

"Even if you are right about Nikola," Helen sighed. They'd spent the last week rehashing too much ancient history. It was starting to make her feel off-balance. "We're all to blame in some way."

"Your father included. It took me years to figure out how to escape his prison." John let go of Helen's hands but stepped closer. "Perhaps, in some ways, I've never escaped it."

He leaned in, his lips hovered near hers until she said, "John." The warning needed to go no further.

He smiled in that curious way that used to thrill her when she was young and foolish. "I could stay until you fall asleep."

"I'm not a girl anymore, afraid of the things that go bump in the night."

"You never were." John smirked. "Don't tell me that you think you'd fooled me. I knew then it was all an act to get me to stay."

She raised a brow at him. "It worked, didn't it?"

He laughed. "You really would have made an impossible wife." His off-handed comment made her suck in her next breath.

He asked gently, "Will you ever learn to trust me again?" When she didn't answer, John continued, "I don't blame you for being angry."

"I'm not."

John pointed out, "You did try to kill me."

"I was protecting Ashley."

At their daughter's name, John stilled. "All I ever wanted," he paused. "Even in the worst of the madness, I still wanted what I'd always wished for. What we'd wished for."

"We were going to have at least three, remember?" Helen asked, emotion stuck in her throat.

His hand moved to her cheek. "I remember." His thumb brushed over her lips.

Helen studied his eyes. They were clear of all the pain and insanity she'd once seen. It would be too easy to see things in them that she'd left behind, far to easy to fall again. But her own weaknesses were part of the problem. With proof now that Ashley had inherited John's gift, did it also mean their daughter had inherited his curse? Would she become a mindless killer? Did Ashley possess a combination of her mother and father's faults, and nothing of the promise of something better than their shortcomings?

John didn't stop stroking her cheek as he embraced her with his other arm. Helen clung to him in return, battling against the fears she knew they both shared. It had been so long since they'd shared anything.

"We'll find her," he said. "We'll find her and we will help her."

"What if it's too late?" She lifted her head to look at him.

"It's never too late." They stood together while their minds traveled through all the possibilities. Finally, John stepped back from her, giving his fingertips the privilege of being the last part of himself to touch her. A final, small caress, and then he dropped his hand. "Try to get some sleep."

She knew in that moment, had he pushed at all in his attempt to seduce her, she wouldn't have stopped him. Until tonight, she hadn't recognized the extent to which she'd spent years hating that particular part of herself.

"Good night, John," she replied as she stepped inside her room, alone, and closed the door.


End file.
